


the joy in my feet

by ceserabeau



Series: White Collar AU [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - White Collar Fusion, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 02:39:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1249681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceserabeau/pseuds/ceserabeau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia always knew she’d like Europe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the joy in my feet

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Maya Angelou's _Phenomenal Woman_
> 
> Coda to [see straight through you](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1246078)

Lydia falls in love in Paris, with rain-soaked streets, with fresh-baked bread, with old-fashioned pedal bicycles. She spends days exploring, ducking in and out of cafes and galleries wrapped up tight in scarf and coat. She pretends to pray in old churches, eyeing the crumbling stonework and delicate stained glass. It seems like a city pulled out of her dreams and built before her eyes, like it’s been waiting for her to discover it.

No one knows her here and she finally feels a weight lift off her shoulders as New York becomes a distant memory.

-

Lydia Martin isn’t exactly a good name to be using, so she forks out an exorbitant amount of money for a new identity. Danny’s her guy; she’s known him for years and he’s always been her favourite, if only because he doesn’t stare at her like a piece of meat.

She waits for him at the Petit Palais, in front of the best of the realists ( _Courbet_ , Stiles’ annoying little voice says, _19th century, oil on canvas_ ). She can’t help counting the security cameras, timing the guards, marking entrances and exits. It’s just habit; she couldn’t stop if she tried.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice says.

When she turns around, Danny’s there, looking the same as ever: dark hair, dark eyes, more tanned than she’s ever seen him.

“I’ve always preferred Breton,” she says, “his work is much more atmospheric.”

Danny rolls her eyes, familiar and fond. “How have you been, Lyds?”

She grins at him. He grins back, and it hits her quite how much she missed him. Five years is a long time to go without seeing your best friend.

They walk along the Seine in the blustery afternoon until Lydia can’t feel her nose from the cold of the wind. Danny takes her to coffee, some café where she flirts shamelessly with the waiter in perfect French.

“What happened with Stilinski and McCall?” Danny asks when their orders arrive. “You guys were a good team.”

Lydia smiles into her espresso. “We were the best team.”

Danny must see something on her face though because he reaches out, links their hands together. “So why did you leave?”

She thinks of Stiles, his lips pressed to her forehead, his clever fingers running through her hair. Thinks of the way her heart beat too fast in her chest at the sight of his smile, at the sound of his laugh. Thinks of what she wanted and knew she could never have.

“I got too close,” she says, and has to look away from the pity in Danny’s eyes.

-

Paris is beautiful but after a while sightseeing gets boring. She calls Danny on a snowy Thursday afternoon to complain.

“It was fine at first,” she tells him, “but now I just want to steal _everything_.”

He laughs at her. “Come to my place,” he says and rattles off a string of directions. “You should meet my team.”

“Your team?” Danny hums an affirmation. “This I _have_ to see.”

When she gets to Danny’s apartment, there’s a guy slouched on the couch, watching TV. He’s shirtless and Lydia can’t help the way her eyebrow raises in approval.

“This is Ethan,” Danny says, putting his hands possessively on the guy’s shoulders. “And this is Aiden.”

Ethan’s mirror image appears from the kitchen, sadly not as shirtless but just as attractive. _Well_ , she thinks, _this could be interesting_.

“I want one,” is what she says instead.

Danny quirks his eyebrow at her. “Well this one’s taken.”

Lydia laughs. “Good thing there’s two of them then.”

She turns to wink at Aiden but he’s looking at her, eyes dark and assessing, and she goes hot all over. Yes, this _is_ going to be interesting.

-

Lydia helps them steal a medieval bible from the Bibliothèque Nationale, and suddenly Paris is a lot less boring.

-

On New Year’s Eve they watch the fireworks from Danny’s balcony, drinking champagne from antique crystal and cheering as the night explodes in golds and reds.

“We’re thinking of moving on,” Danny says in her ear. “Come with us?”

Lydia smiles up at him and feels something in her chest settle. “Of course,” she says, and lets him gather her into a hug.

When the noise dies down and Paris is quiet again, Ethan slides the door open and guides Danny back inside, hands tight around his waist. Aiden goes to follow but she grabs his hand to hold him back, presses herself against him until he wraps his arms around her.

“What are you doing?” he whispers into her ear.

“Start as you mean to go on,” she says, and reels him in.

-

London, and they help Jackson finish off his Ponzi scheme. He tries to kiss her and she slaps him, not as hard as the last time she did it but definitely close.

(“I’m over you,” she tells him when he stares at her in disbelief, “I’m happy.”

Jackson smiles softly at her. “It’s a good look on you,” he says.)

Amsterdam, and they smoke weed until Lydia can’t see straight. They plot half a dozen thefts: Anne Frank’s diary, Van Gogh’s self portrait, getting more and more ridiculous as the night goes on: a houseboat, the ‘I Amsterdam’ sign, dildos from the Erotic Museum.

Berlin, and they find out that they’re on Interpol’s wanted list. Danny takes them out to celebrate and they drink champagne in Alexanderplatz until they’re too drunk to stand. Aiden kisses her beneath the clock tower, and everything feels fantastic.

Warsaw, and the Chopin museum has barely any security. Lydia walks into the vault and out again without anyone batting an eye. She comes away with nearly half a million in original manuscripts.

Prague, and Ethan takes the night off. He tries to steal an early Kupka for Danny’s birthday but gets caught and they end up having to break him out of jail before his prints make it into the system.

(“If only this country was still part of the communist bloc,” Aiden shouts over the sound of the sirens pursuing them. “We probably could have just bribed them.”

“Shut up and keep running,” Lydia snaps, and they do.)

Zurich, and Danny sets up bank accounts for them. By the time they leave, their combined investments are close to eight million.

Milan, and Lydia takes them all shopping. She walks away with a new closet of couture dresses, the boys with half a dozen suits each.

Venice, and Aiden rows them down the canals. Eventually Ethan tries to push him overboard, but Aiden drags him down and they surface, spluttering and laughing in the sunshine.

Rome, and the Vatican is tempting. In the end though, they hit the Capitolini. The head of Apollo looks fantastic in their living room.

-

By the time they reach Athens it’s the height of summer. They get an apartment, tucked away between ancient monuments, and spend more time sightseeing than stealing.

Lydia goes running one afternoon and comes home to find Ethan dozing on the couch, Danny’s head pillowed in his lap as he watches the news. Aiden’s in the kitchen, banging pots and pans around as he makes them dinner. The room smells like flowers and the scent of onions frying.

Danny raises a hand in greeting, smiling at her, and Lydia feels contentment settle in her stomach.

She always knew she’d like Europe.

**Author's Note:**

> Partially inspired by [this](http://www4.pictures.zimbio.com/gi/Max+Carver+Fourth+Annual+Veuve+Clicquot+Polo+nZ4tOVVarC_l.jpg). 
> 
> If only I could write this much on my thesis in the same amount of time


End file.
